


Possessions

by IbelieveinMarkNutt



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Don't feel sorry for him, Drug Use, Felix likes money, Locus has a lot of money, Locus isn't allowed to be happy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IbelieveinMarkNutt/pseuds/IbelieveinMarkNutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Locus heard his company before he saw them, the screech of brakes on an expensive car being the first cue, the second being the threat of “-and if I find one single scratch, I’ll kill you myself-” which of course was loud enough for the entire area to hear.</p><p>The start of a smile pulled at the corner of Locus’ mouth, irritation melting into that bittersweet fondness he held for little in this world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessions

There was a humidity in the air, filling the sheltered outdoor area of the sophisticated restaurant and bar that Locus had chosen to dine in that particular evening, the man’s gaze cast downwards as he read over the wine list for a fifth time.

He was having particular trouble coming to the conclusion of red, white or rosé.

Silence trickled on.

“Perhaps a white for this evening, sir? It is rather warm. A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc arrived from New Zealand this afternoon, I can have a chilled bottle brought out to-”

Locus lifted a hand calmly, the waiter in front of him quietening immediately. He sighed and looked out to the residing sunset, distracted.

“…That will do.” He eventually stated, closing the wine menu and handing it back to the familiar man, although he was yet to learn his name, “A bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc.”

The waiter nodded diligently and turned to leave, Locus extending a hand to stop him briefly.

“And two glasses.” He added.

The waiter’s eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise before he nodded again, “Of course, sir.”

Locus watched the man leave to go back inside before he removed the glasses from his face, letting them close with a satisfying click. The dark tortoise shell colour of the spectacle’s rims weren’t particularly Locus’ style, but his original ones were nowhere to be found and these did their job.

He hadn’t expected to be this nervous in all honesty, rather little stirred him up nowadays, and Locus preferred it that way. He told himself that anyway.

Locus checked his watch, the silver plated hands ticking away. Ten past seven. Irritation tightened the muscles in his jaw, he was supposed to be here ten minutes ago and Locus was ruthless when it came to punctuality. Just who did he think he was, standing up Chaquille Locus?

The heat of this damn place wasn’t helping things, his white dress shirt already buttoned down as far as socially acceptable, exposing the beginnings of his dark collarbone.

He took out his phone, opening his recent contacts, about to add to his dozens of already missed calls before they finally arrived.

Locus heard his company before he saw them, the screech of brakes on an expensive car being the first cue, the second being the threat of “-and if I find one single scratch, I’ll kill you myself-” which of course was loud enough for the entire area to hear.

The start of a smile pulled at the corner of Locus’ mouth, irritation melting into that bittersweet fondness he held for little in this world.

He stormed through the building like the hurricane he was, eventually coming outside with those bright, decisive eyes and devilish smile. His eyes caught Locus’ and his smile doubled, heels clicking with their contact on the hand-crafted stones that made up the pavement of the patio, “Locus! There you are!”

Yes, Locus had the power to make him smile like that. No, this did not give the man butterflies.

He stood up, feigning indifference, “You are aware of something called reservations, Felix? You can tell a waiter my name and they’d bring you to my table.”

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” He replied as he threw his arms around the broader, forcing him down to the smaller’s height, even in those red high heels.

Locus could smell that he was wearing his favourite perfume; musky with a hint of oranges. It reminded him of the smell of his grandmother’s kitchen. Felix pulled away and Locus offered a half smile, taking in Felix’s unique presence. An unapologetically tight, black dress hugged Felix’s thighs and hips, smooth over the contour of his chest, plain straps over blemishless shoulders. Black painted his eyes, some smoky effect Locus could only wonder how he achieved, the bright colour of his lips matching his shoes.

“A smile? You must be in a good mood.” Felix teased, the amber of his irises glinting mischievously, the man pressing an intoxicating kiss to Locus’ lips before moving away to sit down.

Locus followed suit, seating opposite his companion as his waiter emerged from the inside of the building, looking a little flustered as he carried over the wine Locus had ordered.

Felix crossed his legs and got himself comfortable, elbow resting on the table, hand under his chin, gazing at the waiter with that unimpressed expression.

Clean glasses were set on the bloodless linen of the table cloth, clinking softly against the fabric. The pop of the bottle came next, the soft rush of the liquid from the bottle’s opening into the bottom of Felix’s glass.

“You’re late.” Locus informed.

“I like these.” Felix interrupted, tongue sharp, picking up Locus’ reading glasses from where he’d set them down on the table, “Very… math teacher.”

Locus tried again, “In future you could at least answer my calls.”

Felix lifted a hand to indicate his glass was full enough, the waiter beginning to fill Locus’ next.

“Where did you even get these from? A thrift store?” Felix was putting the tortoise shell frames on his own face now, batting his eyes at Locus, “Do they suit me, Locus? Aren’t I just the hottest math teacher you’ve ever seen?”

Irritation. Fondness.

Locus sighed, indicating to the server to stop pouring. He was about to pick up his wine glass to taste it before Felix beat him to it, swiping it away and bringing it to his own lips, forever the child who’d rather play with others’ toys than his own.

Felix flashed Locus an innocent smile before he took a sip, spitting the wine back out onto the floor at the waiter’s feet, face scrunched up as if he’d been forced to drink rotten milk.

“This is disgusting. I hope you didn’t recommend this because it's horse shit.” Felix exclaimed as if the waiter had just offended him, pouring the remaining liquid onto the tiled floor to prove his point, the wine splashing onto the server’s shoes.

Locus didn’t intervene.

“How much are you even charging for this? You know what? I don’t even care. White wine is supposed to be dry and crisp, if I wanted it to be sweet I would have stopped at some crappy bar downtown.” Felix sneered, reshifting, “Just bring me your most expensive champagne. And clean this mess up because I’m not sitting next to it.” He gestured a manicured hand at the pool of alcohol he’d created, “And an ash tray, too.”

“…Right away, ma’am.” Locus’ waiter replied once he was sure Felix had finished, looking suitably terrified as he skittered away back inside, tail in-between his legs.

Felix laughed with malice as soon as the door to the outside closed, looking pleased with himself at his exertion of power.

“That was unnecessary.” Locus commented, worn hands clasped together on his lap, resting his back against the support of his chair.

“Oh, lighten up, Lo,” Felix scolded, taking Locus’ glasses from his face and opening his clutch, rummaging around momentarily before pulling out a packet of Insignia cigarettes and a lighter, “You’re always so serious.”

Locus was silent, noting the brand was different to Felix’s usual Marlboros before looking out into the lowering sun again. A welcomed breeze blew through the restaurant’s outdoor seating, the man closing his eyes and letting it cool his skin.

“The place seems busy. Why’s it so quiet out here?” Felix continued, used to the one-sided conversations he shared with Locus, not expecting a response as he lit up a smoke.

“I did not want to be disturbed.” Locus answered, looking back to Felix, calculated gaze become slightly milder.

Felix rose a tinted eyebrow, blowing a puff of white and grey through his nose, “So you booked out all these tables?”

Locus gave a brief, single nod.

Felix laughed for a second time, this time the sound pleasing to Locus’ ears. The kind that didn’t give him butterflies. “God, Locus, it turns me on how you throw about your money like this.”

The beginnings of a smile threatened to emerge on Locus’ lips as Felix took another drag from his cigarette and chimed a couple more laughs.

“I guess it helps you’re handsome, too.”

Once the ‘spillage’ was cleared and Felix had his champagne and ash tray, the pair were brought out food menus, Felix ordering for the both of them within minutes of receiving the carefully laid out print, which received him a pointed look from Locus. A new server Locus didn’t recognise was now looking after, their stride close to jogging as they retracted from the table as soon as possible.

“What?” Felix asked as Locus kept up his barbed stare, “If I’d let you chose we would have been here for hours.”

Locus had to admit, internally, that he had a point.

Felix had a complaint about every course that was brought out to them: too soft, too hard, too hot, not hot enough, too much spice, not enough flavour, the colour wasn’t right, the portion was too small. It was amusing watching the staff rush about to try and please Felix, but Locus knew the best that was next to impossible.

“Hey.” Felix clicked his fingers to catch the server’s attention as she cleared their dessert plates, the younger having eaten both Locus’ mint truffle torte and his own caramelised cheesecake, “Bring me another bottle of this. And don’t bother with two flutes this time. Just one.”

The waitress looked to Locus questioningly, which did not gain her favour with Felix. He wasted no time in putting her in her place, “Excuse you, but I’m the person talking to you, not him. Go and get me my champagne before I have your manager fire you for wasting my time.”

Apologies tremored from her mouth and Felix got, as he so often did, his own way, the woman fetching a fresh bottle and a clean glass. She tried to hide her discomfort as she popped the top and poured Felix his first glass. Felix ravished this, greedy eyes taking in her almost fearful behaviour. He tapped his manicured nails impatiently, making a big show of how long the waitress was taking,

“Do you not think that you’ve had enough?” Locus inquired once he was left in Felix’s company, a tinge of amusement in his grumbly tone.

Felix brought the flute to his reddened lips and chased half of it down before he spoke, face alight with drunken glee, cooing, “What is this pathetic life without a little overindulgence, darling?”

He really is drunk, Locus concluded, drunk and crazy.

“I was thinking- I was thinking about getting Medusa coloured again.” Felix continued, giving up on the glass once he’d finished it, beginning to drink the bubbling froth from the bottle.

Medusa. She was the dragon that resided on the left side of Felix’s spine, her snarling face resting on his shoulder, wings expanded, tail curling downwards onto the small of his back. Locus was very well acquainted with her. He waited for Felix to continue as he took another swing.

“I don’t like it when she starts to fade. Maybe I could get something else done too. You’d pay for it.” It wasn’t a question, rather a mischievous statement, Felix lounging back in his chair like he was at a house party.

Locus was past being irate at Felix’s lack of social etiquette long ago, now finding it impressive the man could pull off munching through a bag of Doritos at a relative’s funeral or going into depths about his late night endeavours at important dinner parties without batting an eyelid.

“I knew I could count on you, babe.” Laughter chimed, his elbow coming back to resting on the table, chin on hand, Felix’s smoky eyes gleaming, “You’re my favourite client, Mr. Locus.”

The older swallowed dryly at this, reality seeping through the cracks of his relationship with this beautiful man.

Felix’s seemed to have noticed Locus’ tenseness, changing the subject subtly, “You wanna get out of here? We’ll go back to your place, you can help me finish this, maybe share something stronger.”

Locus sighed, as much as he liked that idea, he’d invited Felix out here for a reason. It was suffocating keeping his emotions inside himself like this, but it was all he had ever known, and breaking the habit was proving to be a challenge in itself.

“No?” Felix was talking over Locus’ silent deliberation, back to rhetoricals, “Something else? What is going on inside that mind of yours? What do you want, Locus?”

“I want you to move in with me.”

There is was, out in the open, no taking it back. It was idiotic but it had been all he could think about. Years ago, Locus would have been shaking.

Felix’s expression sobered, cartoon eyes wide and vulnerable for a few, sweet moments, giving Locus a glimmer of hope, before they hardened like hot wax hitting metal. “I’m an escort.” He said firmly, “Not something you can keep around your house for free so I can bounce on your cock when you’re bored.”

Locus cut in, “You make it sound as if I view you as a possession. That I don’t-”

“Shut up.” Felix interrupted, “I can’t believe you of all people are putting me through this bullshit.”

“Felix.”

Felix ridiculed him with that horrible, hate filled laugh in response to Locus’ plea, the butterflies that weren’t swirling in Locus’ gut freezing in place. Just like that he’d been cut off from his affection.

“Did you really think this was real?” More laughter, “That I actually enjoy spending time with you? Honey, I pretend to give a shit about you, because you pay me to. I tell you that you’re handsome, because you pay me to. I let you fuck me and pretend I love it, because you pay me to. Are you detecting a pattern?”

Locus was silent and pretended Felix was directing this at someone else.

“I need to get going. I have places to be.” Felix stood up, cutting off anything else Locus may attempt to say. He set down the champagne, condensation running down the side of the bottle from the heat of the night. “I can’t believe I actually came here. I’m not even being paid for this. Friday’s my best night and here I am wasting it with _you_.”

Locus was silent and pretended the other’s snarl didn’t hurt him.

Felix’s pupils burned into the other man’s. “You do not contact me directly anymore. You want to see me again; you go through Vanessa. And you’ll be paying me triple. Do you understand?”

Locus nodded sullenly.

Felix sighed irritably, snatching his clutch from the table cloth.

“Goodbye, Chaquille.” Were his final words before he stalked back inside.

There was a numbness settling on Locus’ chest and he embraced it, waiting until his escort was long gone before paying for their meals, signing out a cheque for everything Felix had chosen and handing a couple of hundred dollar bills to his original waiter as a silent apology.

He didn’t realize he was in his car until he was halfway to his house, stopped at a red light. The non-existent butterflies had died and turned to dust, filthy maggots writhing in their discarded remains. This was it. This was the end. Why did he never learn his lesson? No one could ever love him. He was dead inside. He’d died the moment that bullet had ripped through Agent Washington’s skull.

Cars were honking loudly, the light turned green minutes ago. They could all go to hell.

“ _You can all go to hell!”_ Locus yelled as he slammed fists down on the steering wheel of his BMW, knowing he’d bruised the skin there as soon as it collided with the hard-set leather. He didn’t care.

He had been stupid. He thought it had been beautiful, that Felix had brought him back from the dead- like he’d been resurrected, like he’d been taken from the brink of death and given a second chance. It wasn’t beautiful; it was repulsive. He hadn’t been resurrected; he’d been zombified. Caught between life and death, a purgatory all of his own.

A calmness settled over him again and he drove on.

Reaching the privilege of his gated, 3-story house did not bring Locus the relief most experienced when returning to the place they call ‘home’, instead he was given further reminder to his decrepit loneliness. It was pathetic really, everything he had and he still couldn’t buy himself someone to cross their fingers behind their back and tell him they loved him. Perhaps he just liked to suffer this way and his subconscious wouldn’t tell him why.

He didn’t know, and at this point Locus had lost the energy to bring himself to care even remotely, pouring himself a large, neat whiskey and sitting alone in the dark of his rarely-used kitchen. The moonlight shone against the marble of the island he was sat at, Locus tracing a finger along one of the black veins running through the pure whiteness of the polished rock.

The burn of the spirit was soothing as it ran down Locus’ throat, the man exhaling deeply before he drained the bottom of the hand cut, crystal whiskey glass his father had gifted him on his twenty fifth birthday.

Had he really been drinking from this glass for ten years?

Locus’ hand found the bottle of Highland Scotch in the darkness, the sweetness of its finish still heavy on his tongue, free hand moving out to crack open the top and intoxicate himself further. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

The bottle was set back down and he pulled the device from its hiding, an automatic, aggravated grunt of annoyance leaving his nose at the caller ID.

“This better be of importance, Doyle.”

“ _Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry to be disturbing you so late, Mr Locus, sir, but you know I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t of the upmost of priority.”_

There was pointed pause, Locus waiting out the man’s further apologies impatiently.

“ _I- Sir, there’s been a problem.”_

Locus pinched the bridge of his nose, counting downwards from a hundred in blocks of seven.

 _“We’ve- we’ve lost a- We’re unsure of_ _where the shipment has gone. Sir.”_

“You’ve lost the shipment.” Locus echoed calmly. This evening was getting better and better.

_“I wouldn’t say that, sir. It may be they’ve simply… misplaced it?”_

“’Misplaced it’?” Locus’ tone grew tight and strained.

“ _I, um, perhaps that wasn’t the best phrase to-”_

“How do you misplace three hundred kilograms of cocaine, you dim-witted waste of a man?!” Locus’ growl turned to a roar as he slammed his fist down on the hardness of the kitchen counter, injuring the already bruising skin of his hand, “I expect it found by the end of the week or I’ll kill you myself!”

_“But, sir- but- b- b- but-”_

“Find it!” Locus yelled as he stood up and threw the phone across the kitchen, the glass shattering on impact, case breaking open and scattering its insides onto his floor.

He held his head in his hands as he controlled his breathing, knowing it wasn’t just forty million dollars resting on the goods being found. Chaquille Airlines couldn’t go through another scandal; he could only feign ignorance to the authorities so many times before their scrutiny became so fine that they’d uncover something. Incompetence in his ranks was becoming something of a habit recently.

Locus poured himself another neat whiskey, giving up on the concept of a glass completely after his third, drinking the aged scotch straight from the bottle like a drunken teenager, sat on the polished kitchen tile next to the discarded mess of the iPhone Felix had forced him to buy.

He thought of the hundreds of dollars wasted on the liquor burning down his throat, of Doyle's incompetence and the relief squeezing his hands around his quivering Adam’s apple would bring him. He thought of Medusa and the softness of the skin she was inked upon, of the shape of her owner's thighs, hips, the curve of his cupid bow lips. The smell of musky oranges.

He was so alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe it'll have more chapters idk


End file.
